No Means No

See if this sounds familiar.

She said no. I didn’t listen. She said no, I convinced her otherwise. She said no, she was afraid to move towards anything that remotely resembled a relationship. I acquiesced and agreed to her terms. She said no.

Sometimes, if the heat is good enough, you can weather a lot of objections. If the hopefulness is high you can swat away objections and focus on what is working. If both parties are willing to be honest, you can even jump through rings of fire to arrive at an arrangement. But something is missing, if the balance is always off. If one partner keeps saying no. And for a time, the good feelings and electricity will keep the momentum moving forward. Until something breaks.

Something broke. It was silent and painless. It was how you might imagine dying in your sleep. And then the warmth and energy that had begun to flourish again was tamped out by yet another freak out. And the no this time, would be accepted. Why fight about something you can’t control. Why try again and again to convince the other person how things could be however they chose, if they could just make up their mind. She said no, again and again. I tried again and again.

But the funny thing is from massive love poem to dear John letter, the arc was less than a week. And the real disconnect happened, perhaps as a result of the love poem, perhaps as a result of an extended period without contact. Of course, I cannot imagine to understand her thoughts and feelings. But I can be happy and amazed at the capture and release efficiency of this near miss.

I’m sure I will feel the pull down over the next few days, but it’s more about reaching out for someone who was willing and witty and fun, more than reaching out for the next relationship.

One person cannot create the lover out of the other person who is unsure. Both lovers have to show up at the same time, conscious and aware of their part in the process. If one person is not ready, it won’t work. It simply cannot be forced. It is painful and frustrating to come close and yet feel the miss.

But taking inventory this time I can see how much I’ve grown in the process.

It was 5 days ago when I was meeting her best friend for the first time when I saw the unravelling. I was saddened even in the moment to be aware of how much distance she was putting between us, even when I was present and attempting to connect. I watched from across the room as she did her thing, worked the kitchen, played with her best friend, and passively ignored me. I was present, but irrelevant. I could feel it.

It was at that moment that I felt she was gone. I took a moment to watch her and accept all the things I really loved about her. I could also see the illusion I was spinning about her. The part that led her to say, “I’m not as great as you seem to think I am. I’m boring.”

I was able to pull back the love poem just a bit and expose the real woman. I still wanted her passionately, but her spirit, her engagement with me, had already flown. There was zero flirty-witty woman. There was zero touch. Even casual brushes of affection were not returned. It was as clear as if she had asked me to leave.

I’m sure I will feel the pull down over the next few days, but it’s more about reaching out for someone who was willing and witty and fun, more than reaching out for the next relationship. And while I was okay with those parameters, set up by earlier dear John letters, I was not part of the next decision that took place between the time I sent her the symphony and storm love poem and the following night when we had dinner with her best friend.

I wished her well tonight. I really didn’t want to respond. To send energy after her tucked tail. But I did. I said only two things.